


Hunt In the Heat

by WhatICantShowYou



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Obvious OSHA Violations, Pheromones, Rape/Non-con Elements, beastiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24276034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatICantShowYou/pseuds/WhatICantShowYou
Summary: Request for Geralt coercing Jaksier into taking monster cock.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Other(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 215





	Hunt In the Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: geralt coercing jaskier into taking some monster's cock? like, reluctant/forced bestiality, if you catch my drift? >:]

”It’s in rut. We need to pacify it.” 

Geralt rested his weight upon the closed door behind him, sword held high and eyes focused. Jaskier had just managed to back himself in there before the witcher barrelled in after him, making sure to keep a solid wooden slab in between the two and the monster. 

The words flew partially over Jaskier’s head, adrenaline still pumping through him as he nodded absently. Whatever it took to take the beast out, he thought, or else we are screwed.

The two camped momentarily in the cramped room the bard assumed to be a small pantry, eyeing the empty barrels and containers while trying his best to ignore the faint smell of putrefied meat long forgotten by whoever resided in the remote mansion. Jaskier tried to make conversation, suggesting how to deal with the very much deadly beast just a few meters away. Geralt made no indication that he had either heard and less so cared for what he had to say. It was with a determined nod that the witcher stood up fully again, weighing himself from one foot to the other as he studied Jaskier.

“Wait, did you agree to my first of second plan?” The bard looked at him, trying to find any clue written over his face. Nothing. Instead Geralt simply stared back blankly.

“Neither,” he said after a few seconds, turning his head to angle his ear towards the door, listening intently after the rumble of the beast. Jaskier let out a sigh of relief, happy that he had a plan for them both. Remaining seated, he awaited further instructions.

After a minute of silence, only disrupted by the panting of a hell spawn a measly door away, Geralt deemed the situation safe enough to leave his guard post at the framework, throwing down his bag next to the bard as he kneeled behind him. 

“What-“ Jaskier stayed still, eyeing the witcher as he emptied the content of the bag next to him, pushing around the objects until his fingers gripped at a sturdy leather strip. The bard had seen him purchase it, skinned and tanned from the best cattle on the southern continent. It was meant to be for one of his swords, the hilt too notched for his liking. Before he had the time to rewrap it, the blade had snapped in two thanks to a kikimore and he had no choice but to get a brand new one forged, the strip long enough to rehilt several blades discarded in his bag. 

His other hand quickly caught both of Jaskier’s in it’s grip, twisting the arms down behind his back before taking one end of the leather between his teeth. It was only a matter of seconds before the bard was bound and kicking uselessly on the floor.

“If you want to make it out alive, be still!” Geralt’s voice was filled with something new, something terrifying. It was colder than normal, more akin to when he had first met the man in Posada compared to anything after that. Even in the midsts of vicious battle, the witcher held a better tone, demanding sure, but never evil. He twisted Jaskier’s arm further down his back, wrapping the leather up half of his forearms. 

Next, he kicked out Jaskier’s legs underneath his kneeling form, manhandling him to his stomach. With a quick swipe of his sword, the leather fell into two, using the last half to tie his legs together. Now panic was truly setting in, images of the beast outside mauling the bard flashing before him as he wiggled around uselessly on the floor, a hand clamping down over his mouth before curses and spit escaped his throat. 

“You are not going to die.” It was not a lie, no hint of sarcasm, nor regret in his voice. Geralt was a terrible liar, at least if you knew his quirks like the back of your own lute-calloused hand. It served to calm Jaskier down just the tiniest bit, biting together his jaw tightly as he stared up at the man. 

As soon as the taste of sweat left his lips, Jaskier twisted himself around to his side to get a better look, the witcher already sifting through his belongings spread out on the floor. His hands caught on a small vial, filled with only a few drops of a viscous fluid tainted red. If he remembered correctly, Geralt had stopped for a few minutes in the pursuit of the monster in order to collect the bloodied sample, it’s trail left on a tree stump left than an hour from the mansion. 

Opening up the vial, Geralt sat it back down to the floor, turning his attention back to Jaskier for a moment. He consciously avoided meeting his gaze, instead working himself on the lower most buttons of the bard’s doublet before untying his breaches. Jaskier’s mind blanked out for a moment, the mere idea of the implications too far fetched for him to comprehend. In complete silence, he let the witcher lower his breaches and small clothes, the fabrics getting stuck halfway down his thighs thanks to the restraints. 

The rumble picked up once more on the other side of the door, heavy feet pacing around for a moment before stopping, then with a determined sound padded over towards the door. Claws clicked against the polished wood, it’s breathing growing louder as it approached and it’s sniffing audible. 

As if both of them figured it out at the same time their eyes fell upon the open vial. Geralt quickly picked it up, shaking it above the man’s backside as the few, slow drops splattered over his skin. Using the bottom of the glass, Geralt spread it over his arse in a sloppy motion, throwing away the vial for an unlucky person to find later. Strong arms then gripped Jaskier’s hips, hoisting him up from his side to a kneeling position once more, his torso arching downwards as it laid flat against the wood, rosy cheeks pressed into the wood as he made no attempt to move. 

The moment the door flung open, metal hinges complaining at the strain of the motion, the bard truly felt the situation settle in, his brain immediately sounding what alarms it had. Had Geralt not held him in place, sitting just by his head to push his shoulders down, Jaskier would had been jerking wildly, doing his best to crawl away from the beast sniffing the air behind him. Instead he was screaming and kicking about, exerting his last power in a futile attempt to get the hands off him.

A snarl froze the bard in place, his blood running cold. Hot huffs of air blew against his back, sniffing at his skin with interest. He had no way to see, face smushed against the floor as his upper body was caged in by the witcher’s grip. 

As sudden as the emergence of the monster had been a wet, slick sound filled the room, something just as revolting lapping at his hole insistently. Tremors shook Jaskier like a leaf, fingers clawing at the sturdy leather as sobbed.

“No, no Geralt, please...” his voice broke in his throat, weak and sad. He couldn’t even see the witcher, nor the abomination pressing closer to his backside and huffing above him. All he could see was the inner corner of the pantry and the shattered pieces of the vial, shadows cast from the light in the other room mocking him.

It was in the shadows he saw the beast mount him, his body gone numb under the shock. What could be described as the monsters arms(front legs? Jaskier wasn’t sure.) wrapped around his waist as something slick jabbed at his entrance, gliding in the wet mix of putrid saliva and the vials contents. Geralt did not move, his hands still digging into the bard’s shoulders to keep him still even though he had stopped struggling. 

A sudden flash of pain ripped up inside of him, blooming out from his core and encompassing his entire being as the tip caught on his rim, the monster pushing itself inside him with little consideration. Dizziness spun Jaskier’s world around, the edges of his vision Blurring and speckled with darkness as his body pumped out whatever adrenaline it could. It didn’t help the pain, though.

Jaskier flinched at the chilling shriek echoing throughout the mansion, ringing in his very being as he closed his eyes. It was a few seconds before he realised it was his own scream filling the air, snapping shut his jaw.

“Breathe.” Geralt’s voice was far too calm, one hand firmly placed in the middle of his shoulder blades now as the other gently petted his tear stained cheek. The contrast between his lower and upper half, one submerged in the witcher’s care and the other in pure, agonising pain made Jaksier nauseous. It was too much all at once and it was with great willpower he kept down his lunch from coming back up.

The punishing thrusts did not help. The beast rutted inside of him, punching the air out of his lungs in every press inside. It felt like the tapered end was pushing on his insides, jabbing itself straight into his stomach with every hard thrust while pushing his hips forward as well. Had the witcher not been putting most of his weight upon his torso, Jaskier knew he would have been pressed up against the opposing wall by now, instead he felt his spine compress and his body angled painfully. 

“P-Please,” he stammered, barely audible to himself above his panting and the monster’s huffing. Foul spit dribbled onto his back, sliding down the arch of his spine to pool in his neck. Jaskier didn’t dare open his eyes once more, the world spinning in the darkness enough already. Geralt made no indication of hearing him, seemingly not caring for the pleas hammered out from the man. 

The pain kept going for what felt like an hour, Jaskier’s cheek sliding around in the mess of mixed spit and his own tears for what felt like an eternity. It was the uncoordinated thrusts that warned the bard of the beast’s release, it stopping as far in him as it could before spilling itself inside. Delirious moans and cries fell from his lips as the liquid seeped into him, burning his body from within. The only relief he felt was the stillness from the monster and the weight upon his upper body receding, Jaskier finally able to take full breaths again. 

Geralt stood up, his right boot visible to the bard as he took a fighting stance. The telltale sound of a sword being unsheathed made Jaskier flinch, the best dead wight upon his back before he even had time to register the swing. A loud thud accompanied the gigantic head as it fell to the floor, blood leaking out over his bruised back as he felt it’s member slowly slip out of him thanks to gravity. As if it was his cue, the bard fell unconscious against the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Always open for requests on my tumblr! whaticantshowyou.tumblr.com


End file.
